Carlisle, of course, always arrived home from work long after the children did from school. Usually not too late, always at a reasonable time for a human to have dinner and see his family, but later, nonetheless.

So, he hadn't had to wait at home, bouncing off the walls with the force of his anticipation, anxiety, and excitement for news while pretending to Esme that everything was perfectly fine.

Not that waiting in his office was much better. He'd felt almost human, as rather than finding himself sitting still, he'd been drumming his fingers against the desk, tapping his feet, and practically buzzing with the need to just do something already.

For the first time in his life, he almost wished he was at high school with the rest. That way he could be there in person, could help ease things along, and see how it all was going. Not to mention it'd give him more time. Lately, it'd felt like there weren't enough hours in the day as every time he did try to insist that "No, really, I met an alien" his family seemed to disappear.

Well, not Esme, but her cheerful, "that's nice, dear" had not been very inspiring.

He supposed it did sound a little far-fetched and combined with the recent destruction of the Mercedes (presumably Carlisle's fault), he might have reason to lie about… something. Carlisle wasn't even sure what, given he had supposedly fessed up to the car, but the way everyone was acting it was as if he'd been on a bender two days ago and was devastated to ruin his perfect image.

Never mind that Carlisle had always been a mad eccentric among vampires, judged by anyone and everyone for holding a human job in the human world, sending his children off to human school again and again, and of course eating rats and mangy dogs.

If Carlisle cared about his reputation, then he would have broken down ages ago. He probably would have never left Volterra.

Though he supposed that there was a difference between his reputation with the rest of the world and that with his family. Except—no, there wasn't. Before leaving, Edward had lobbed the worst accusations at his head, of how Carlisle was only moral when it proved convenient to him for failing to do something about murderers, rapists, and especially vampires. Carlisle could talk all he liked about trying to make the world a better place, but he couldn't put his money where his mouth was.

Carlisle hadn't buckled then, hadn't even considered it, nor had he tried to change Edward's mind. He'd said his piece, and if Edward hadn't been able to understand it back then—then there was nothing he could do about it.

Moreover, his family had met both his friends and even passing acquaintances. They knew exactly how the world viewed Carlisle and exactly what he thought of that.

So, he'd have thought it was obvious that he didn't care what others thought.

Apparently, it wasn't.

Which was why he had to leave at least half of this to Bella.

They might not listen to Carlisle, but if Bella hung around, she would make herself obvious, and then they might finally give Carlisle their ear.

At least, that was what he hoped.

The way his week had been going, he wasn't sure he could predict anything anymore.

Regardless, it took effort to walk through the front door of his house and pretend that nothing exciting was happening, it was a perfectly normal day in which nothing had happened, and he wasn't expecting anything.

"Welcome home!" Esme cried as she ran from the kitchen, "Oh, Carlisle, I just found the most adorable recipe for cupcakes. Do you mind bringing them to work tomorrow?"

(There was a before and after when it came to Carlisle's workplace relationships and Esme.

Before Esme, even when Edward had been posing as his reclusive younger brother, he was more like the hospital ghost than a doctor. He did his work, put in unnaturally long hours and volunteered with unusual frequency for graveyard shifts, and rarely had a conversation with anyone. Most in the hospital would not know his name, if they thought of him at all then he was a bit of a curiosity, that strange recluse.

These days, he tended to show up to work desperately trying to get rid of Esme's homemade treats, while equally desperately trying to retain his reclusive, standoffish, graveyard shift identity. It hadn't really been working out for him. And in a town as small as Forks, they didn't just know Carlisle's name but his wife's, five kids', and the beloved dog's he claimed they had three years ago that had unfortunately died.)

"Sure," Carlisle said, and looked around, "Where are the others?"

Esme's smile dimmed, "Oh—they—they had a bad day at school."

Carlisle's smile dimmed in turn, as did his anticipation, it cooled into a slow spreading dread.

"What happened?" he asked.

There had been other bad days at school.

Not recently, not in Forks, but Emmett, Jasper, and Alice had every so often had a bad day. It'd always been discrete, or made discrete, but it always resulted in at least one body and one life cut—so terribly short.

Esme seemed to read his thoughts, "Oh, no, no not that. No one—slipped, everyone's fine, the humans are all fine."

Carlisle let out a sigh of relief, the tension in him loosened. So, it was just—a near slip then. Not great, if they'd been caught at it they'd still have to move, but a good deal better than someone being dead.

He then looked around the house in confusion, "Nothing's packed."

Granted, they usually didn't take everything with them. Most of the furniture, the artwork, would stay behind whenever they moved. Being absurdly wealthy, all of their homes were fully furnished, and unless they intended to abandon a house entirely there was little point in packing it up all at once. In a few months or years they might slowly move their things out and into other locations, but it didn't need to be rushed.

Still, usually, at this point the white sheets would be out, the most important items packed, and there'd be a line of suitcases by the door.

The unspoken signal to Carlisle that something terrible had just happened.

"Oh, no," Esme said, seeming to read Carlisle's thoughts again, "No, Carlisle, nothing like that either. No one—suspects or knows and there wasn't any slip."

Now Carlisle was very confused.

"Then what happened?"

Group projects, nasty school gossip, even bullying though that was rarer given how intimidating they were, they'd seen it all before. It annoyed them, especially Rosalie, but it wasn't anything that would qualify as a 'bad day' either. It usually meant little more than venting.

Suddenly, Carlisle remembered that he'd purposefully set Bella Swan on them.

And that that—perhaps had not been such a clever idea.

Esme looked hesitant.

"Esme?" he asked.

She let out a sigh, "Well, I wasn't there, so it'd be better to ask the children but—"

She took in a deep breath, "One of the schoolchildren sat with them at lunch."

Carlisle stared at his beautiful, sweet wife, the kindest woman in the world, dumbly.

"What?" he finally asked.

Esme shook her head, looking genuinely distressed, "No one ever does that, not in any town, but she just—she just walks right up and sits down at the table. Without even an invitation."

That was the bad day?

A human child had gone and dared to sit at their lunch table? No one had tried to eat them, no one had even made it obvious they wanted to eat them, they'd just—sat there?

That was it?

As if sensing his growing disbelief, Esme further explained, "Oh Carlisle, it was Bella Swan and she—she just smelled awful. Perfectly awful. After school everyone rushed home and insisted on a load of laundry, and those were the clothes that had just come out of the wash too! And then she refused to leave. She—she said she wanted to talk to Jasper for some reason."

Carlisle had to fight the desperate instinct to ask, "And?"

Esme, however, thankfully kept rambling and explaining without Carlisle having to ask, "They all had to leave the table. Everyone except Jasper had to leave. Their own lunch table, Carlisle! And then Edward had a full class period with her right after! He was so upset!"

Did they own the lunch table?

No, no—he wasn't even going to ask.

"Did she talk to Jasper?" Carlisle asked hesitantly.

Esme shook her head, "I don't know—he didn't say anything about it. But Edward and Rosalie are so upset and they're afraid she's just going to go ahead and do the same thing tomorrow, except Alice didn't see any of this and can't see anything about it tomorrow either, and—And Jasper came home with Bella Swan's gym clothes!"

"Her what?" Carlisle asked.

Esme just nodded in tearful horror, "He came home with a bag of her gym clothes and—and he won't let me wash them! They're—it's awful, Carlisle, it's the worst thing I've ever smelled! It's not just—her but the sweat! And he said he wants to take them to school tomorrow! Alice is an absolute wreck!"

Then, as if this wasn't enough, Esme added, "And Edward and Alice still haven't found out anything about the—about the house."

Carlisle could only stare.

He knew that, in theory, he should be comforting Esme right now and promising to speak with Edward, Rosalie, and even Alice (Alice who had never once wanted his comfort or advice) but it was as if his mind had left his body and he could only stare.

Esme seemed to be trying to recover her good cheer, forcing it back into some semblance of order, and sniffing back her tears she said, "Oh, but how was your day, Carlisle?"

"Boring," Carlisle said swiftly, "I mean—nothing happened. Very routine."

They continued staring at one another. Carlisle found himself awkwardly patting her on the arm, "I'll bring in the cupcakes tomorrow."

Then, rather than go to find Edward, Rosalie, or even Alice, who no doubt desperately needed to talk to him about their terrible day of foul smelling lunches, his feet carried him towards Jasper's scent.

Jasper did, indeed, have a gym bag.

And it was potent.

Bella's sickly, sweet, sharp scent radiated from inside the bag. The dried sweat only made it that much stronger, to the point where Carlisle wondered if putting it through the wash could even salvage it.

He wondered if Jasper's room, even, could be salvaged as the entire place now smelled potently of Bella Swan.

And there was Jasper, sitting on the couch looking as if he weren't bothered in the least, leisurely reading through one of his many history texts.

Jasper gave him a wide-eyed look on entering and the first words out of his mouth were, "You're not taking the bag."

"What?" Carlisle asked dumbly, then blinked, "No, no, I'm—I'm not here for the bag, Jasper."

"Good," Jasper said, relaxing back on the couch somewhat.

As if this conversation was now finished.

"Jasper—just—why do you have a bag of Bella Swan's clothes?" Carlisle finally asked and Jasper—just gave him a look. As if that was the dumbest question he'd ever heard.

Finally, as Carlisle continued to stare, Jasper slowly explained, "Carlisle, this bag is my salvation."

"What?" Carlisle asked.

"Have you smelled this?" Jasper asked, pointing to it.

Carlisle stared, "Yes?"

"It smells worse than animals," Jasper said, "It smells worse than dying pigeons or rabid cats. It smells worse than anything I have ever come across. This is the worst smelling bag on the planet."

"Yes?" Carlisle couldn't help but ask again. (He'd defend Bella except, well, it was true. She smelled much worse than even Ephraim had.)

"It is so utterly revolting that any desire to drink anything flees completely in its presence," Jasper said, "I am never parting with this bag."

Carlisle stared at the bag and then at Jasper, all of it slowly coming together, "You mean—you're going to take Bella Swan's soiled clothes with you to school."

"And getting fresh supplies whenever I can," Jasper added.

"Fresh supplies—" Carlisle's eyes widened in horror, "Jasper, are you going to raid her gym locker?!"

Carlisle wasn't even going to imagine Jasper running to Bella's house and stealing her laundry from there. His mind simply wouldn't allow it, no matter how many times Jasper had proved himself to be ruthlessly pragmatic.

Jasper's expression grew irritated, perhaps even mildly offended, "No, if you must know, she offered."

"She offered?"

"We had a nice chat at lunch," Jasper said with a shrug.

"About what?!" Carlisle asked.

And Jasper—gave him another look.

"Well, she claims to be your alien friend, for one, that you told her you're a vampire, and that you've been footing her Dairy Queen bill," Jasper said, "Frankly, I don't care if she's the Tooth Fairy, I just want her gym clothes."

"I—" Carlisle opened his mouth, closed it, and finally relocated to a chair, "Well, yes, that's all true, she is my alien friend and—what do you think?"

"What's there to think?" Jasper asked in turn.

"What's there—Jasper, she's an alien and—to be honest I hoped you'd like her and could help me introduce her to the others," Carlisle confessed, "I mean—she can't keep living like this, look at her, she told you what she was in ten minutes. She's going to have to keep the secret about us and about herself, and that means—well, it probably means coming along with us for the next move."

He was rambling hopelessly, probably failing to get his point across, but he just didn't understand how Jasper could just sit there calmly.

He'd met an alien, there was an honest to god alien in Jasper's school, one who knew that he was a vampire at that, and she need their help and–dammit why was Jasper so calm when Carlisle wasn't?

Jasper let out a laugh.

"What, what is it?" Carlisle asked.

Jasper just kept laughing, setting his book aside, and then looked fondly at the gym bag, "Well, I'm all for it, obviously, but Carlisle—good luck."

"Why?" Carlisle asked.

Jasper just smirked at him, "They lasted one minute."

"Who?"

"My esteemed siblings," Jasper said, "One minute. Rosalie was out in thirty seconds, when she realized Bella wasn't leaving. Emmett, of course, went with her but he wasn't too upset to leave, if you know what I mean. Edward was one second after Rosalie, when he realized that Bella really wasn't leaving. Alice stayed the longest, only because I was still sitting there, but she left too and—she's not exactly happy with me at the moment."

He trailed off, his expression growing pained and somber, but then he seemed to recover himself, "But she'll be happier in a world where she's not watching my every move for the next accident."

"Well—" Carlisle said, looking at the gym bag, "I mean, Bella's not the most—socially aware of creatures and she does—smell vile, so I can't say I'm surprised—"

"Rosalie despises her," Jasper said, "Thinks she's uppity and entitled, especially after the lunch stint."

"Because she sat with you at lunch?" Carlisle asked, unable to help the sheer disbelief in his tone.

"Edward despises her too," Jasper noted, "Mostly because she smells, but he's also concluded that she's ugly, overrated, and weird."

"Ugly?!" Carlisle asked in growing horror.

"Ranted about it the whole way home with Rose and Emmett," Jasper said with a nod, "It'd be one thing if Bella Swan was hotter but acting the way she does and looking that average—tsk."

"What?" Carlisle asked, "But—she's a very attractive girl! And what does her appearance have to do with anything?!"

"Ugly girls should know their place," Jasper said, as if this were obvious, "Surely, Carlisle, you know this."

Carlisle did not know this.

Or, rather, he was aware of this but he hadn't seriously thought his own family, Edward and Rosalie of all people, would—

"Jasper," he finally said, "I—tell me you understand what I want here. Bella needs our help, desperately, for all she doesn't know it. Moreover, I want her to be a part of the family. I am trying, desperately trying, to convince everyone but I… Apparently, I'm going to need help. And if I can't do it, and Bella can't do it, then you have to help me. Not just for her sake but—for her gym clothes."

"Oh, believe me, I am very attached to those gym clothes," Jasper said, nodding towards the bag.

Then he sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair, "I'll try to talk to Alice. Rosalie's too upset, Emmett's too—Emmett, Esme's not even there, and Edward hates me and never listens to a word I say."

"Edward doesn't hate you," Carlisle started, feeling very confused and—was met with Jasper's pointed glare.

"Carlisle, which of us is the empath here?" Jasper asked, "I know how he feels."

Carlisle—

Fell silent.

Jasper, sensing the Edward discussion was closed, sighed, "Of course, Alice isn't exactly thrilled either. I—strongly suspect she can't see Bella Swan. Too many decisions Alice is missing. She should have seen Bella decide to eat lunch with us. She didn't. She didn't see any of my conversation with Bella either, or my decision to take her clothes. Having her vision blocked like that—she's not going to like it. I wouldn't either, honestly, if it weren't for the clothes."

Right, because blinding Alice's vision would mean blinding themselves. Yes, Carlisle could imagine how someone like Jasper would feel about that.

Carlisle found himself suddenly very glad that Bella smelled as awful as she did.

As for relying on Alice—

Alice was a very strange creature, a daughter, but one who had never felt quite as much like a daughter as Rosalie. Alice—played at being a daughter when it suited her, and her relationship with Carlisle had always felt politely distant.

Their conversations were usually short, to the point, or superficially cheerful. She was far closer with Edward and Jasper, unburdening her worries and anxieties over the futures that never were to them, to Carlisle—she tended to hand down final decisions and expect him to take them for granted.

He didn't know what she'd make of Bella Swan or what she'd decide to do about it.

With Bella invisible to her though, and Jasper this dubious, Carlisle was going to guess that Alice would not become his ally.

"Thank you, Jasper," Carlisle finally said, "And I suppose, if it comes to it, I can—I don't know, dictate that she's coming over to meet the family or something."

If they'd elected him head of the coven then he supposed it was about damn time he used his authority for something. Then they'd have to endure Bella's presence, take her seriously, and finally start listening to him.

Edward and Rosalie hadn't liked each other at first either, they'd gotten over it once they realized that neither Edward nor Rosalie were leaving.

And Bella—well, she wasn't charming, but there was a certain charm to her. Once they got past the smell, they'd see that.

Jasper just gave him a look, he didn't say a single word, just a look.

Author's Note: Thanks to Vinelle for betaing the chapter. Thanks to readers and reviewers, reviews are much appreciated.

Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight.